


I dare you to

by jeanjosten



Category: All For The Game - Nora Sakavic
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Dare, Kandreil - Freeform, Kevin and Thea aren't together, M/M, OT3, Polyamory Negotiations, Pre-The Raven King, Rough Kissing
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-12
Updated: 2018-01-12
Packaged: 2019-03-03 21:07:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 5,771
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13349553
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/jeanjosten/pseuds/jeanjosten
Summary: The Foxes’ vice has always been betting on money for nothing much—and Kevin Day is no better when he reluctantly joins them. He’s a terrible gambler, that’s for sure, especially when it comes to his mystery of a baby striker Neil Josten. Then he makes the mistake of betting against Andrew for forfeit instead of money to prove a point, and perhaps that’s where things start to slip up.





	I dare you to

**Author's Note:**

> I don't even know what I'm doing. Best listened to along [this](https://youtu.be/-4EGTT5vYUE). bukowskids.tumblr if you want to hit me (up)

Andrew sober is a mighty, terrible thing—Andrew on drugs is a wavering danger that only a fool like Kevin Day would be willing to bet against. Somehow he should have known from the start not to: Andrew never bet, with anyone, about anything. It had become something the Foxes had grown accustomed to eventually, and didn’t question anymore—but Kevin was as absurdly obstinate as he was arrogant, and he didn’t like to be wrong, especially not when Andrew’s ruthless smile was there to rile him up.

It had started with a little bit of nothing, a gentle argument stretching on months to become something the Foxes were used to hearing. It was to be expected, from Andrew’s hatred for the sport and Kevin’s undying love for it clashing together and their opposite personalities following soon after. 

“I don’t bet,” Andrew growled like a warning when the Foxes told him to deal with their divergences through gambling. It was an entertaining and relatively harmless way to do it, and it would have an incredibly good advice from the Foxes if it hadn’t backfired like that.

Truly, Andrew’s _I don’t bet_ should have been a familiar echo of Neil’s _I don’t swing_ , but neither Andrew nor Kevin were good at admitting things. One day practice was so harsh and Kevin so pitiless they almost fought—Neil tensing in the background and ready to jump at the sight of Andrew’s knives. That day, though, they stayed comfortably hidden in their sheathes, and Andrew only smiled to Kevin’s outburst. It didn’t make things better, of course, but tension escalated to a point Andrew thought it interesting enough to prove Kevin wrong that he was willing to make an exception, and _bet_. 

It happened quietly, down the court in front of the goal, where only they could hear. 

“Neil would never do that,” he insisted firmly, with an honesty that could have broken bones if only they’d been talking about something other than Neil’s secret relationship, or so Andrew called it. 

“Kevin, Kevin, Kevin—” he chanted with the satisfaction of someone who’s already won. “I could waste both breath and energy telling you how endearing it is to have you so ignorant about your own distasteful obsession, but you can’t keep my interest for _that_ long.” 

Kevin frowned, ready to bite back—but he considered the words, and leaned in. “How would you know? You don’t look like someone Neil would confess his secrets to.” 

Andrew’s laughter was a little too pleased. “You’d be surprised, you really would.” 

In fact, Andrew had so far done a great job at collecting numerous secrets from Neil’s half-offering half-reluctant palm, and even better at figuring which were blatant lies. From a pathological liar, lies weren’t all worth pointing out—and it was somewhat amusing to see Neil walk around thinking he was safe from the truth. He _did_ have a pretty strong poker face, but Andrew knew Neil a little more than he should have, and his dislike for dishonesty made it all the easier. 

“He practices all day, goes to class and then practices with me at night. He wouldn’t have the time,” Kevin insisted, but his eyes were already grim with the doubt Andrew had slowly planted in his head. Andrew watched as it bloomed a little more each passing second, all too pleased to see Kevin finally considering the truth. 

“No time is needed to pine on someone.” Kevin winced at the words, but Andrew went on cheerfully, ignoring the glares from all Foxes for uselessly delaying practice. “He’s got someone on his mind, and soon enough it’ll distract him from your precious Exy. I’ll be there to see when that happens.” 

Kevin stiffened with pride, unwilling to believe Neil would ever turn himself away from Exy in favour of daydreams and pitiful pining. They’d talked through this already, and Neil had _insisted_ that he didn’t swing for anyone, which made Kevin’s pleasure somehow. He figured it was for professional aspects—being straight and, even more so, being out of relationships or straight up uninterested in emotional pursuits would make Neil’s career unbelievably smooth. He wouldn’t escape gossip and fan theories, that’s for sure, but at least his full focus would be on Exy, and he’d make it to Court eventually. 

He found comfort reminding this to himself, confident of proving Andrew wrong. That would be the first time, and it would be terribly pleasing, no doubt. 

“Let’s bet,” Kevin defied with cold eyes and a determination that was almost touching. His blind loyalty towards Neil was rather cute; the fact that he was being lied to was insanely entertaining. 

Perhaps is that why Andrew held his chin up, raised a brow, and finally said: “You lose, you pay a forfeit.”

He could practically see Kevin backing out of the bet already, displeased with the idea of doing something Andrew would _like_ to see him do. It couldn’t be anything right, and it certainly couldn’t be anything Kevin would ever agree to—not willingly anyway. But the satisfied gaze Andrew offered was untroubled and clear: if he refused, Andrew would take this as a victory, and he couldn’t bear it. He glanced at Neil, frowning at them from across the court, and reluctantly held out his gloved hand. 

“You lose and you shut down the goal for the next three games.” 

Andrew’s smile grew wider. “Three games is way more than the Foxes can survive. Is that stupidity or bravery? I cannot tell.” 

“Yes or no,” he ushered, because Matt was already moving to press them—they’d taken too long already and it was now or never. If Andrew ever said no, the bet would be lost forever; and now that Kevin had found something interesting to get from Andrew, he wasn’t willing to give up.

Andrew didn’t say a word, but his smile spoke for him. He hesitated a short second before shaking Kevin’s hand with his gloved one, sealing the agreement. 

“Then we have a deal,” he smiled, and it was all but friendly. It was cold and reeking with satisfaction. Kevin could practically feel it crawling on his skin. “I hope you’re a better loser than you are at Exy, otherwise this might appear to be a rather nasty moment for you.” 

Kevin turned around, unwilling to argue any further, especially when Andrew looked so pleased with himself. He firmly believed Neil had told the truth when he said he wasn’t interested in anyone, and perhaps he should have remembered that Neil had said that months ago.

Then again, Kevin Day didn’t know much about pining, that much is for sure.

***

He’d watched closely for days, waiting for the hint he’d been right—but there was nothing, nothing more than usual, and he thought he really was right about all of this. Now, this was Andrew, and if Andrew had felt confident enough to bet on it and risk doing something he didn’t like, there had to be more to it. A part of him had always known, but it was hard to stand down and ignore it when provocation worked so awfully well on him. Kevin’s being was made of hard work and perfection, and he wasn’t one to neglect an occasion of being right, especially when it came to Neil Josten.

It happened at practice, again. Andrew was growing more and more amused and it was getting a little bit harder to bear with the days. Then, on a Monday, it felt boring enough that Andrew thought he might give Neil a push. Conversations about Neil’s love life and subtle attempts to get the Foxes to pry never quite worked, as they knew it never would; but Andrew had other means to prove it. 

It wasn’t fair: that’s because he knew things Kevin did not, and thus had more than one way to steal Neil’s attention. He decided to keep it interesting by slowly angling Kevin towards the truth he’d missed, each day giving away a hint and smiling as Kevin followed. It was little nothings; Neil staring during games when Andrew would walk to his goal—Neil willingly talking to Andrew—Neil lingering—Neil drifting out of mindless conversations when he felt Andrew’s stare on him from afar. Oh, it was deliciously effective, and Andrew was all too satisfied each time to prove he’d been right all along. Kevin, in response, was even more terrible to be around, face sullen with discontent whenever Neil proved him wrong; painfully waiting for the final proof he needed. What Andrew had been suggesting day after day was that Neil had a _thing_ for Andrew Minyard, a thing he perhaps didn’t even know he had, and the thought of it was unbearable. 

“I want proof,” Kevin said that Monday. “Distraction and glances mean nothing.” Somehow he knew he was wrong, but it hurt too much to admit it. Either way, a proof was necessary to settle the bet, so Andrew nodded. 

“Give me something and I will deliver it to you,” Andrew smiled. 

Kevin thought about it, glancing in Neil’s direction as Dan cheerfully showed him something on her phone. “Ask for something he would never be willing to give away.”

“Like secrets?” Andrew asked.

“Like truths,” he corrected. 

Though Kevin Day didn’t know much about either of those, he was smart enough to know there was a difference—a difference Neil Josten clearly mastered. He handled words like dictators, twisting minds and reshaping opinions to dance around his way around the truth he didn’t want to give.

“There is something,” Andrew thoughtfully smiled. Kevin nodded, and they drank their water in silence until Andrew pushed himself off the bench. 

“Break is over,” Kevin said aloud to the Foxes, and then, a little more quietly to Andrew: “Today. Corner him after everyone’s showered and force this _something_ out of him or the bet is off.”

“I will not take pictures and I will not record anything,” Andrew coldly warned. He was one twisted being, but he was certainly not one to tiptoe around respect and privacy; Neil’s on top of that. Not for Kevin’s pleasure and not for anyone. He’d ask for the truth and Neil would give him—but he wouldn’t share it.

“Make him believe everyone’s gone and I’ll be there. I might not see, but I can hear.” 

Andrew processed the thought, considered it, and then, after what seemed like an eternity, nodded. 

***

“Neil,” Andrew chanted as he leaned against the lockers. 

The Foxhole Court had shower stalls thanks to Wymack, but Neil still liked to wait for everyone to leave and savour short bits of privacy. Then he’d run his way back to the dorms, something everyone had let him do unquestioned for months now. Today, however, he was tying his sneakers when Andrew had appeared out of nowhere, and Kevin was hiding in the row behind, quietly going through his messages on his phone.

“Andrew,” Neil frowned with distrust. 

“I was just thinking privacy suited you so well,” he let out with a smile, and though it felt like a threat, Neil brushed it off with a shrug.

“I like being alone just fine.” It was unhelpful as he knew it would, but Andrew was getting extremely good at forcing truths out of him anyways. It was a slow process—but he never came home empty handed.

“And predictably so,” he nodded. “These must be rough for you to so carefully hide them, aren’t they? Gets me wondering. You don’t have a swastika tattooed there, do you? Because that would a terrible choice of both opinion and aesthetics.”

Neil tensed up at the mention, not really liking where this was heading. 

“I don’t,” he said, eyes fierce with a disgust that easily proved him right.

“Then what? For someone so openly antagonistic, hiding whatever is underneath is a considerable effort.”

“What do you want?” He asked, voice tight with a tension he couldn’t quite get rid of. 

It only made Andrew laugh, which perhaps was a good sign. And it was: it was exactly where he wanted to conversation to go. Andrew would have easily said he didn’t want anything, and certainly not from Neil Josten, but there was, indeed, something he wanted—something he knew would unquestioningly settle the bet.

“I want to see them.”

He wished Kevin could see the way Neil’s face twisted with fear and surprise, looking a little less like a wild animal and a little more like a battered puppy. 

“What?” He asked, voice white and raspy with surprise. His heart was probably racing right now—so Andrew took a step forward and dug two fingers on the side of Neil’s throat. He let him, though he tensed under the touch, and Andrew found himself satisfied. His blood was pumping hard, perhaps even harder now that Andrew was so close.

“There’s nothing to show,” Neil said as he clung to his last attempt of lying his way out of this. Andrew didn’t buy into it, and he knew he wouldn’t, but it was worth trying.

“I don’t believe you.” 

Andrew’s voice was honey—but dangerous, incredibly dangerous—and eternity stretched out as Andrew stayed there, hands on his throat, fingers stretching as though threatening to choke, and Neil processing the pros and cons in a panicked heartbeat. 

When he spoke, he spoke with blunt fear, not the fear of Andrew, but the fear of all the things his scars meant. Kevin’s confirmation was there, right there—and he looked up from his phone to stare at the lockers as he listened close.

“You don’t get to ask questions about them.” Andrew nodded respectfully, knowing there were limits people should never cross. 

Kevin didn’t really know what all this was about—in fact, if anything, he figured those were the mistreatments his busy and neglecting parents had offered through the years. That’s what Coach Hernandez had implied, at least, and since Kevin had been the one to recruit him, he’d been the first to know about the theory as well. Andrew had both figured it out and pried his way around. 

Kevin had never thought it necessary to demand that of Neil. He didn’t care for the bruises or the scars or the traces of surgeries or the broken bones—he had seen too much at Riko’s sides to be truly bothered by people’s mistreatments. Befriending the Foxes didn’t make it any less banal; all of them were messes and good parenting wasn’t something they had all enjoyed.

To Kevin’s surprise, however, he found himself wanting to look. He didn’t of course; he’d always known these scars were there but the fact that Neil was willing to let Andrew get a glimpse was startling and straight up bothering. Kevin had asked him to abandon privacy in Arizona, to get over his shyness if he wanted to be a champion—but not once had he bent under Kevin’s limpid orders. Neil was definitely not going to let people see. So, Andrew?

It didn’t make sense.

When Andrew let go of his throat, Neil took a deep breath and pulled on the hem of his t-shirt. It wasn’t long before skin was uncovered, and scars showed almost instantly. They started far down his abdomen and splattered all across his chest and shoulders, which explained most of his clothing habits. Loose, long-sleeved, just enough to make sure they wouldn’t slip into unwanted view. 

Andrew watched in silence, taking a selfish meticulousness to go through each and every scar. He let fingers hover above and then gently trace the outlines, making Neil shiver under his touch—and he _did_ see Neil swallow down, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down as he stared at Andrew’s focused traits. He tried to keep his breathing unbothered, but having Andrew so close, _touching_ him, there was something insanely wrong about it—something he couldn’t quite bring himself to acknowledge. He let Andrew explore in silence, taking them in as though he could remember each of them; and then Andrew withdrew his hand. The respect for privacy was startling from him, but he didn’t question it and he didn’t complain.

“These ouches look a little rough,” he said with a smile, and then continued in German so that Kevin wouldn’t be confessed any of Neil’s secrets: “You said you were on the run. You lied to me,” he concluded as he pointed his chin at the outline of an iron, flesh pink with scar tissue.

“I’ll tell you all about it,” Neil said in German. “All in good time.”

Andrew accepted that, though he caressed the unpleasant sting of dishonesty. Neil had unquestioningly delivered what Andrew had asked for, for no reason and no counterpart, and he was smart enough to understand it meant something. Andrew would never have forced him to show his scars, never. Neil offering them without protest was the first step towards the truth he was after, and that was close enough. 

All in good time, he repeated in his head as Neil put his shirt back on.

“Is that all?” Neil asked, and Andrew knew that was it.

“Close enough,” he nodded—and he turned away without another word. 

Kevin waited for him by the door, way out of sight from Neil, and they both quietly left the locker room. Nicky and Aaron were waiting in the foyer, clearly displeased with the delay, and Andrew threw the car keys at Nicky.

“What were you two doing back there?” Nicky asked as he started for the door. 

“Getting things straight,” Kevin grimly answered, and Andrew beamed with the satisfaction of proving Kevin wrong.

***

Kevin had very much refused the forfeit Andrew had asked for. It was both childish and insane, and Kevin had thought, perhaps, if he protested long enough, Andrew would forget about it or change his mind. But Andrew never forgot, as he never did with anything.

“I won’t do it,” he said as he pushed himself off the bean bag. They were about to pick Neil up for night practice, and Andrew was awfully sober. 

“You will,” he assured, and there wasn’t room for protest in his voice. “When I tell you to, you will, and you won’t argue.” 

Aaron and Nicky were already fast asleep, tired from their rough practice today; Kevin, on the other hand, had been too jumpy to even consider closing his eyes. What Andrew had asked of him was terrible—and he found himself thinking he could never do it.

“Grow up, Andrew. We’re not five anymore. Perhaps these things amuse you, but I’m sure Neil would agree with me that they are all but funny.”

“They do amuse me greatly,” he confirmed, not caring for Kevin’s uncertainty in the least. “That’s what deals are for: responsibility. You’ve never been too good with that, so I’m giving you the perfect occasion to get your hands dirty and practice on it.” 

“I don’t see how _that_ can make me more responsible.”

Andrew shrugged, uninterested. “Not my problem. See for yourself.” 

He picked up his car keys and went for the door, and Kevin couldn’t do much but follow.

***

Neil and Kevin hadn’t talked since Kevin had heard them exchanging a truth Neil had been fiercely holding on to for months. It left a bitter aftertaste, but Kevin couldn’t tell if it was because he’d betrayed his trust by lying, or if it was the easiness with which Andrew had gotten what he wanted. He was pretty sure Neil would have refused if that had been Kevin, and it made him unexpectedly bitter.

Still, it was awkward talking to Neil with the things he now knew—that Neil liked Andrew Minyard, even though he didn’t seem to realize it. Kevin’s eyes lingered a little too much, and he hesitated a little too long whenever he spoke up. Neil could sense something was off, but he didn’t ask, and as Andrew had disappeared into the stands to snooze or distract himself, night practice went as normal as it could.

For the most part, at least.

Because an hour and a half into the drills, Kevin caught Neil staring through the Plexiglas walls—right there, standing at the door hands in his pockets, was Andrew, watching both of them with a blank expression Kevin couldn’t decipher. It was otherwise uninterested and unconcerned, but Andrew wasn’t looking away, and Kevin pursed his lips as he felt his own heart try to escape out of his chest. He swallowed, dropping his racquet at his hip. 

Andrew’s eyes went from Neil to Kevin, and Neil’s followed almost obediently. There was confusion on his face, and he was still breathless from the drill they’d just finished—but then Andrew nodded knowingly and Kevin shook his head. 

“What does he want?” Neil asked, and Kevin could tell he entertained the faint hope that perhaps, Andrew would train with them.

“Nothing,” Kevin growled—but Andrew wasn’t tearing his eyes off of him and he was starting to feel dizzy with anxiety. His cheeks were warmer than they should have been just ordering Neil around, and he definitely didn’t want to address that.

Andrew’s stare was so heavy it was unbearable. He tried turning away, but he saw Andrew slip his hands out of his pockets, ready to pull out knives perhaps, and Kevin buried anger as deep as he could before turning to Neil. The motion picked up Andrew’s sudden interest even through sobriety, and Kevin gave Neil a grim, defeated look.

“Take off your helmet.” 

The order was simple enough, but Neil had never been an obedient child.

“What? Did I do something wrong?” He asked, and he reeked anxiety the way Kevin could easily recognize it—he was fearing Kevin would stop teaching him things, he was fearing Kevin losing his interest in him at all. That was a detail Kevin had missed and shouldn’t have, but he’d have enough time to wonder about that later.

“Take off your helmet,” he ordered again, a little louder, pressingly enough that Neil frowned and obeyed. He cautiously undid the strap and pulled it off, messing up black hair on the way out. His orange bandana was still in place but barely, and a few dark strands had escaped from underneath. Kevin stared, and oh, did he hate how pretty Neil was.

He glanced at Andrew for confirmation, with the naïve hope of being granted a way out. Andrew wasn’t moving, body tense with attention, and when he nodded, ever so slightly, Kevin knew he wouldn’t be able to get away with it. He promised himself not to ever bet against Andrew, certainly not when it wasn’t money waiting on the other side. Forfeit? What was he thinking?

He sighed through his grated front and removed his helmet in his turn, dropping it to the floor with his racquet. Neil was watching, alert, searching for signs of anger—but there was nothing. It wasn’t Kevin’s usual irritability, and Neil was more than certain he’d done the drills perfectly. Still, when he obediently stood still as Kevin rushed to him, he braced himself for violence. 

Kevin probably sensed it miles away, because he stopped a few inches away from Neil’s face, and the tight knot in Kevin’s brows wasn’t anger—it was restlessness. He was almost sure Andrew had dared him such a thing to prove another point—that Kevin was too much of a coward to execute it—and that he hadn’t really expected Kevin to do it, but he didn’t want to face the consequences of bailing out. Perhaps another part of him, though quiet and hidden in the shadows of uncertainty, thought it was a dare he didn’t really mind. Understandably so.

He tried to ease Neil’s tension off as he cupped his jaw, fingers plunging in the birth of his hair and behind his ears. Neil jumped underneath his grip, expecting all but this touch, and long unused to this kind of intimacy. He tried to remember the last time someone had held him like that, but he couldn’t.

Kevin leaned in before he could back off. Bravery wasn't something he'd been good at so far, but he knew those things had to be done quickly or not at all. It was like taking a band-aid off: brief and painful and determined. 

His lips on Neil’s were meek and fearful, a kiss reduced to a pathetic peck he knew wouldn’t be enough for Andrew’s expectations. This was sloppy and half-hearted, so he braced himself and pulled Neil closer as he reaffirmed his grip on his face—parting his lips invitingly, heart bouncing hard when he realized Neil obediently opened his mouth. 

Neil couldn’t breathe. Eyes closed, he lost himself in the touch, wondering why such a small thing could feel so good. He didn’t have enough composure to ask himself the right questions: why was Kevin Day kissing him in the middle of night practice, with Andrew watching on the inner court? That he didn’t know. All he could focus on was the warmth of Kevin’s lips and Kevin’s mouth and Kevin’s tongue, and his grip on his racquet went loose as it almost slipped from his fingers. 

They parted hesitantly, like pulling away to assess the damage. Neil’s cheeks were flushed and his eyes unfocused, Adam’s apple bobbing up and down like he was choking on the inside—Kevin, him, only looked above his shoulder to check Andrew’s reaction. 

There was as much as a sober Andrew could give: the faintest ghost of a smirk, satisfied and obnoxious. Then something odd happened, like a quiet agreement, and it felt like asking Andrew for permission. Kevin thought he’d imagined it somehow—but then Neil sighed distractingly in quiet pleasure and Andrew nodded and he couldn’t bring himself to _think_.

He turned his attention back to Neil, who hadn’t torn his eyes off of him for a single second, waiting obediently underneath his palms without asking any questions. Not that Neil could ever talk at this moment, throat tight in awe and thoughts buzzing in all directions, chaotic. 

Neil hated himself for that—but he opened his mouth before Kevin even got close enough to kiss him. This one was deeper, hesitation long abandoned, and Neil held up his free hand to Kevin’s elbow, brushing the fabric like he was trying to hold onto reality to keep himself from falling.

Neither of them noticed Andrew had entered the court until he appeared at their side, watching intently with hands back in his pockets. He looked bored and unimpressed, but the intensity of his stare gave it away. Neil pulled away, distracted by the new and unexpected presence, and his eyes wordlessly asked Andrew all the questions.

Andrew gave the stare back, but he didn’t bother answering. 

Then something even stranger happened—left hand still on Neil’s jaw, Kevin’s right hand disappeared and he half turned towards Andrew, eyes knowing. 

“Yes or no?” Andrew asked as he stepped closer—closer than Neil had ever seen them. He frowned in confusion at both the motion and the words, but before he could ask Kevin was nodding, unshaken.

Andrew and Kevin had kissed before—many times. They’d done it tentatively at first, letting out their frustration and clear irritation towards each other in deep, maddening kisses nobody could suspect. They’d never really taken the thing much further—there was no true need to—and now that Andrew was standing there, right next to them, both flustered and blushing, he abandoned himself to Andrew’s familiar lips without protest.

Neil could only swallow, mouth going slack as he watched without ever blinking. His eyes lingered on Kevin’s and Andrew’s mouth collapsing with long practice, anticipating each other and tiptoeing the line of passion; something he’d never thought he’d see between them and still couldn’t quite believe. It wasn’t passion, it was lust, or something close enough, and he found himself looking from their crushing mouths to the death grip Andrew had on Kevin’s jaw, questions dying on his lips before they even formed.

It was insanely wrong, insanely wrong. Still—Neil couldn’t help but stare, unmoving from Kevin’s gentle hand, skin burning at the sight. It wasn’t something he’d ever hoped to see, and he found himself surprisingly thinking it made sense. A part of him had always suspected them to be a thing, and now it was hard to deny how attracted he was to these boys. He’d never really lingered on the thought, unwilling to fall into his mother’s slapping palms or punching fists, but there was no one around to punish him for even kissing Kevin Day. No one. Not even himself.

When both pulled away, lips pink from the kisses, Andrew swiftly shifted his gaze to Neil. His eyes widened when he caught Andrew’s solid gaze, not really sure was he was supposed to say or do. He was still trapped in Kevin’s grip and almost cornered between their two bodies and the wall. 

Somehow, though, Neil didn’t feel _trapped_. He didn’t feel _forced_ and he didn’t feel _fearful_. He was, almost unbelievably so, too mesmerised to look away and run, though he knew he should have.

“Told you, Day,” Andrew let out. There was no hostility and no amusement in it, but they clearly heard the unshakeable feeling of being proved right. It surely was something Andrew didn’t care about too often—except when it came to two pretty, unsuspecting boys.

“Told him what?” Neil asked from his haze, and it took two times to find his voice. When he did, it was a weak and tentative thing, rebellion long gone.

Andrew ignored him, looking at Kevin like Neil wasn’t even there. “Neil likes you, and the better part is that you like him back. Startling, isn’t it?” Andrew smiled, but it was a faint and insincere thing. He wasn’t smiling out of joy but out of satisfaction.

“The bet was about me,” Kevin whispered in startled realization. It was about them both, really, but it was close enough. Kevin’s mouth closed as his brows furrowed. “I don’t like him,” he defended himself instantly—and Neil frowned in confusion at their exchange.

Andrew snorted, but it was unamused. “Are you sure about that, Kevin Day?” He said as he got closer to Neil, and Kevin’s brows imperceptibly shook. “You won’t mind, then,” he concluded for himself and gave Neil every bit of his attention.

The look was enough to figure; and Neil weakly shook his head, whispering a breathless “yes.”

Andrew hardened in a second. “You’ll have to do better than that,” he let out flatly, unconvinced. 

Neil didn’t think he’d ever been asked to convince someone to kiss him, but his lips were aching for his and Kevin was watching a little too intently. It took his breath away and he couldn’t stop. He’d deal with the consequences later, or so he thought.

“Yes,” he tried again, face tight with a seriousness that Andrew believed this time. His voice was firmer and his intentions more determined—so Andrew leaned in and took his time as he caught Neil’s lips, wanting Kevin not to miss any bit of it. He could feel Kevin tense under his fierce grip, and perhaps was it enough to open his mouth, asking for Neil to do the same. Neil felt grateful for the racquet still in his hand, and tightened his grip around the stick to keep him from reaching out and touching Andrew. Lips and tongues danced for a long minute under Kevin’s cold stare, and when Andrew pulled away, he went straight for Kevin’s reaction.

“Any objections?” He slyly said, and Neil had to fight to stand on his weak knees, the weight of their mouths still hanging on his. 

Kevin had always been insanely territorial with Neil, only he’d ever shown it through Exy. It was easy for the Foxes to misunderstand and make it a sport thing; but Andrew could see through it in a blink. Attraction wasn’t something he considered easy to miss. That was, of course, without talking about Neil’s denseness and Kevin’s unwillingness to admit things.

“Fuck you,” was Kevin’s only response, and Neil wasn’t sure but he thought he’d felt Kevin’s hand slide to the back of his neck in a protective grip. He was numb from head to toe—he couldn’t tell.

“Hear that, junkie?” Andrew laughed. It was an empty laughter, but the fire in his eyes hadn’t dimmed down and Neil clung to it. “Kevin has it hard for you and your attitude problem.” 

Neil processed that, swallowing hard. He didn’t dare cross Kevin’s gaze when he didn’t deny it, and he could feel Kevin’s eyes piercing through in search of a response. 

“What about you?” Neil asked Andrew.

The shrug was unbothered. “You’re interesting for now.”

Neil raised disarrayed brows, speechless. A boy who’d never been allowed to kiss anyone had been kissed by two boys the same night, and those two boys were watching intently like they were trying to decide who would earn the next kiss. 

“I thought you didn’t swing,” Kevin said, tone accusatory—but he made up for that with a gentle caress at the back of his neck that only Neil could see and feel. His lips parted when he felt it, a long shiver of pleasure rolling down his spine. He didn’t know Kevin could be that soft.

“I don’t,” he said quite honestly. Neil didn’t swing for anyone, not really—yet, _yet_ , perhaps he did for them. He didn’t have more explanations—he’d barely had enough time to process what had just happened, and he’d have all the time in the world to figure it out later on. For now, he simply knew he trusted them both, and that it felt good.

Andrew accepted that with a nod, and he turned away, hands back in his pockets. 

“Hurry up, we’re going. Change out now or I’m leaving without you,” he warned as he left the court.

Kevin and Neil watched him leave until he disappeared to the foyer, and when they looked at each other one last time, Neil caught Kevin’s eyes drifting lower, lingering on his lips. 

“Can I?” Kevin asked, face tight with something defensive Neil didn’t buy into; voice so harsh and proud _asking_ for a kiss sounded like a lethal effort. 

Neil rewarded him with an obedient and instant nod, and when Kevin leaned in again, Neil thought he might get used to it a little bit too easily.


End file.
